catch me, pull me down and burn me up
by gaarafreak
Summary: How Garrus views the events of and after Shep's death. Spoilers for some events in ME1&2. Implied Garrus/FemShep. One-shot character exploration I wrote to prepare for my other Garrus/Shep fic, The Difference Between.


catch me, pull me down and burn me up

This story has been told a hundred times, the only difference is in the style and details. It is about Garrus and how he dealt with Shep's death, etc. I wrote it to understand him more for my other Mass Effect 2 fic, _The Difference Between_. I'll tell it to the best of my ability. Spoilers for some events in ME1&2. Hints of Garrus/Shepard (Female)

A/N-Thanks for reading the drabble. I hope to have time soon to write more Garrus/Femshep stuff once school's over.

* * *

Every night since the Normandy went down in flames, I wake up shaking and covered in sweat, disoriented in time. Tonight's no different. I run my palm down my face and force myself to breathe. My heartbeat is deafening in the silence of my apartment on Omega.

The nightmares are always about her.

Her eyes haunt me. That look she used to fix me with whenever I let my anger take over, let it fester into bitterness that ate away at my insides. The look that saw passed my disappointment at letting Dr. Saleon get away and my hatred of being powerless. She challenged me to be more, to sacrifice pride for the sake of others, even to help those who didn't deserve it, who might never deserve it.

Wide-eyed looks that could mean nothing other than: What are you thinking? You're better than that.

Even if I didn't want to be better, even if I just wanted to plant a bullet in the crazy Salarian doctor's brain and be done with all the hatred and self-doubt. She forced me to step back and take another look. I didn't understand. Why should we give criminals the chance they never gave their victims? The chance to live.

When I asked, she just looked away, eyes focused on a spot on the wall of the Normandy. She would say, _So long as there's life, there's hope. __We can't control how others act, but we can control how we react to them. I won't let the viciousness of their actions change who I am._

She used to say justice isn't about revenge. That's not how it works. And, though it pained me to look again, to try and see it like she did, through the eyes of someone better, stronger, surer…she made me understand. And, if anything, it helped me to understand _her_. She hated killing. She valued everyone's lives equally. Every life was equal. It hurt a little to think of it that way, but it was the truth. My life, the same as Tali's, the same as the criminal doctor's.

The soldier who hated to kill. A damned, beautiful paradox. I thought she was crazy. But that was what affected others so strongly about her. She even got through to Saren, in the end, helped him break free of Reaper control long enough to neutralize himself. He listened to her and chose death because he knew she wouldn't choose it for him.

And she even made me believe, tentatively at first, in justice. Not just revenge, but true justice and mercy. Something pure to strive for.

And then she died.

Spaced, Joker said. Blasted out a hole in the Normandy's hull, her body hurtling through space. I can still hear Liara's sobbing, Tali's murmured disbelief. Joker said, last thing he saw was her suit catch on the shrapnel and air spray from the breach.

As he spoke, I remember not being able to breathe. I wondered if that was what it felt like for her. Disoriented. Hopeless. Then, Councilor Anderson said, as if the universe wasn't done kicking her while she was down, her body was sucked into Alchera's gravitational pull and burnt up in the atmospheric descent.

No body to bury. No way to mourn. Just a quick, clean rip then nothing but pain afterward for a long time. Two years and going strong.

That's what I get for believing in something bigger.

I went back to C-Sec like I told her I would, but the nightmares only got worse. There's no mercy in this life for the weak and the poor. Justice is only an illusion based on who has the power. I was "talked to," repeatedly, for being too rough with the suspects, for ignoring the rights of criminals to protect the innocent. For dispensing my own version of justice. I remembered why I hated working for C-Sec. Their rules tied their own officers' hands behind their backs, crippled the only force capable of helping on the Citadel. There was too much restriction to truly make a difference to the people.

And I had to do good. I had to do something, help someone. Show the galaxy that it hadn't won, that she had existed and that she had left something behind that would carry on in her absence. She was here. She mattered. I could give her that.

I emptied my bank account. I didn't bother handing in a resignation this time. C-Sec was a joke. I didn't even know where I was going when I left the Citadel, I hadn't talked to any of the old crew in months. Drifting in space with no direction, just waiting for some planet to catch me, pull me down, and burn me up.

I wound up at Omega. Not exactly a planet, but it served its purpose. And I served mine.

Here I am. A year and a half since my arrival, two years since the galaxy lost its best.

I have people here who depend on me. It's not much, but having a crew helps, even if we're stuck on this damned rock and all we can do is keep the torch burning...just barely. Protecting the innocent, killing criminals, stealing from the bastards who profit from hurting others.

It's not fighting the Reapers or saving the galaxy, but it's the best I can do without her.


End file.
